Page 221 - Demo

CELEBRATING GOD%u2019S GOODNESS 221Was It Me?I stare at the glowing neon red lights of the alarm clock on my table. 2:38 a.m. My insomnia is getting worse, each night stretching longer than the last. After lying there, staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours, I can%u2019t take it anymore. I need to move. Quietly, I slip out of bed, being careful not to disturb the other girls in the dormitory. The soft rustle of my slippers on the floor is the only sound in the still room. I grab my coat, glancing back at the peaceful figures asleep in their beds.The cool night air greets me as I step outside. The campus is drenched in moonlight, the trees casting long, eerie shadows. The lake sparkles in the distance, reflecting the shimmering light of the crescent moon. Everything is quiet, almost too quiet. I breathe in deeply, listening to the soft snap of leaves and twigs beneath my feet. An occasional owl hoots in the distance, its wings flapping against the silence of the night. There%u2019s a sense of tranquillity in the air, a peacefulness that contrasts sharply with the restlessness inside me.I let my thoughts wander, lost in the darkness. That%u2019s when I hear it%u2014a scream. It cuts through the silence like a knife. I freeze. Another scream follows, even louder this time, full of terror. My heart races, the peace of the night shattered in an instant. Lights flicker on in the teachers%u2019 dorm nearby.Panic grips me. I turn and bolt, running back towards the dorm. My slippers thud against the cold stone floor as I rush up the stairs, breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. A girl lies on the floor, gasping for breath, blood bubbling from her mouth as she struggles to stay alive. A knife protrudes from her stomach, gleaming dangerously in the dim light. The other girls, my dorm-mates, are sitting up in their beds, but they don't move. They just stare%u2014frozen in horror, eyes wide, mouths slightly open.I rush forward, my mind is racing, and drop to my knees beside her. My hands tremble as I apply pressure to the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. The blood is everywhere%u2014warm, sticky, seeping through my fingers. I swallow back the nausea rising in my throat. I can't think about it. I have to help her. I won%u2019t leave her like this.The room is eerily silent except for the sound of her ragged breathing and the soft drip of her blood trickling on the floor. My heart is hammering in my chest. I don%u2019t hear footsteps until it's too late.The door creaks open, and a light switches on, flooding the room. A teacher stands in the doorway, her face pale and eyes wide with shock. She doesn't move.%u201cPlease,%u201d I whisper, my voice breaking, %u201chelp her!%u201dMore teachers arrive, crowding the doorway, their faces painted with horror and disbelief. I look up at them, confused, pleading for someone to do something. But no one moves.Their eyes aren%u2019t on the girl anymore. They%u2019re on me.